


Brand New Moves

by The_Onyx_Moon



Series: From the Outside [2]
Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Red Room (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 09:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19017106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Onyx_Moon/pseuds/The_Onyx_Moon
Summary: He’s the ghost from your past that you would’ve rather stayed forgotten.  But you aren’t the same little girl that danced with him last.





	Brand New Moves

**Author's Note:**

> So, even though I do use the term ‘kid’, Y/N and Winter Soldier never did anything icky back in the red room. K? Cool, glad we cleared that up.

“That was sloppy, kid.  Again.”

His words are clipped, his tone short, and you grit your teeth.

The mysterious Soldier that had made his way into the instructing roster of The Red Room.

Natasha - the closest thing you had to a friend - watches on with hard eyes, though you know she’s only doing what she must to survive.  She doesn’t wince when you wipe the blood from your lip, but something in the depths of her eyes resembles…concern?

“I said,” His fists raise in preparation.  “Again.”  You turn to the man speaking to you, fists clenched tight at your small sides.  He towers over you and your classmates.  Of course he does, he _is_ superhuman.  It’s not only his height that makes him so intimidating, however.  

No, that’s only part of it.  The rest of his murderous aesthetic probably weighs in to his terrifying reputation.  His empty, calculating eyes.  His square jaw that’s always set in concentration.  Those endless muscles that melt into the metal of his left arm.

He is death incarnate, this Winter Soldier, and you are head over heels in love with him.

Or at least, a child’s idea of love.

Since that’s all you are, really.

A child learning the ways of murder, espionage, and seduction in the red room.

You want to make him proud.  Want to earn your ticket out of here.  So you try, again and again, to impress him.  And again and again, you are knocked on your ass.  He calls you weak.  Inexperienced.  Tells you to improve before you get yourself killed.

And damn it all, you _will_.  

If it’s the last thing you ever do, you are going to best The Winter Soldier.

* * *

You never thought you’d see him again, and this is definitely the last place you would’ve put money on running into him at.

The Avengers compound - your newest and most permanent home.

You almost begin to hyperventilate when you see him.  The ghost from your past.  Those blue eyes that have haunted your nightmares and dreams alike since you and Natasha had escaped your hellish existence of the Red Room.

She assures you he’d changed.  That he is a new man, the man he had been  _before_  The Soldier took over.

At first, you don’t believe her.

No one changes, not really.  Like you.  You’re still the same murderous weapon you’d been all those years before.  Actually, you’re a  _better_  version of who you’d been when he’d last seen you.  You did just like he had told you: you improved.  You got stronger.  You became a killer.

You wondered if The Soldier you’d known would be proud.

No use in wondering, though, since that Soldier was gone.  

And in his place?

Bucky Barnes.

Skittish, kind,  _beautiful_  Bucky Barnes.

With skills just as lethal aside, Bucky was nothing like the man you’d known.  Those endless blue eyes hold stories of wonder and torment.  Of the vast emotions he finally feels.  An arm made now of black and gold metal instead of the silver you’d known.  A body just a little bit sturdier - thicker.  He wasn’t being starved anymore, so of course his musculature wouldn’t be nearly as wiry.

You don’t expect your feelings for him to come bubbling right back up to the surface, but they do.  They do with a vengeance.

Steve - the Captain you’d come to respect and even befriend - assures Bucky that your distance isn’t something to be taken personally.  ‘She did the same with all of us when we first met.’

His words don’t seem to comfort Bucky all that much, that same confused yet determined glued to his brow wherever you were concerned.  He  _remembers_ you but he isn’t quite sure  _how_  he remembers you.

He has no idea who you are, all he knows is there’s an intense feeling of deja vu any time you were in his immediate proximity.

It’s driving him wild.

 _You’re_  driving him wild.

And he wants to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

It’s when you’re sparring together that memories come back full force and practically knock him on his ass.

His sheer size is almost enough to take you down - that, paired with the effect his proximity has on you.  It had been years since your little crush on him, so why was he still affecting you like this?

He stands over you, large chest puffed out and panting as he smirks down at you.

“That all you got?”  The cockiness in his voice turns your stomach - and at the same time, makes your tummy flutter with butterflies.  You grit your teeth as he offers a hand to you, and you take it while reminding yourself that this isn’t the same man you  ~~loved~~  crushed on all those years ago.  “C’mon.  Again.”

Your blood chills instantly, your teeth gnashing harder than before if possible.

“Excuse me?”  His face twists with confusion at your cold tone.  There was no reason that one word should boil your blood so instantly, but it does.  Too bad he can’t remember the significance of it.

“Again.”  He repeats, one eyebrow raised.  “Unless…you’re scared?”

A scoff from you, calm, cool, and collected before you’re lashing out, knocking his feet from beneath him.  He recovers quickly, hands catching him the second he lands only to roll him out of the way of your heel - moments before said heel crashes into the sparring matt where his head had just been.

All playfulness has bled from his expression, shock and determination in its place.

It’s an image you never thought you’d see, The Winter Soldier staring up at you - vulnerable and at your mercy.  He strikes again, reaching for your ankle and pulling you down with him.  The moment after he has your back to the matt, however, you’re wrestling your way on top, twisting his arm behind his back and incapacitating him.

It’s satisfying, sure, but you’re under no illusion that you could actually hold him.  The Winter Soldier was much stronger than you and could break from your hold if he really wanted to.

“I’ve learned some brand new moves.”  You snap, twisting his arm to the point of pain.  The only thing that breaks you from your stupor is his grunt of pain.  In an instant, you’re off of him, on your feet with hands raised in surrender.  “O-oh my god, Bucky, I’m so sorry!”

You’re out of the gym before he can say a single word.

* * *

“Trust me, Y/N.  If anyone can understand, it’s him.  He’s been to hell and back.  He can understand the effects torture has on the mind.  It was an accident.”

Nat does her best to convince you of your innocence.  But you just can’t hear it.

“Just challenge him to a rematch.”  She shrugs.  “He won’t say no.”

You groan, throwing a pillow in her face.  She only giggles in response, but you know she’s right.

So you challenge him to a rematch.

And he accepts.

Which is how the two of you end up where you are now.  Circling each other, hands raised and poised to attack, eyes focused and narrowed.

You know he’s going to be expecting more this time, especially after you quite literally knocked him on his ass.

The two of you go several rounds before either of you are pinned, but in the end, it’s Bucky who ends up on his back beneath you.

But this time it isn’t curiosity or shock staring back up at you.

It’s…something else entirely.

“And here I thought you didn’t learn anything from me.”  He grunts, smirking as his hands drag up your thighs.   _Wait, what?_   

“W-what are you saying?”  His strong, broad hand comes up and for a moment you flinch away, only knowing pain from the face staring back at you.  

“Oh, c’mon.  I’m supposed to be the one with memory issues, not you.”  He chuckles, and you can’t help but shiver at the way he’s looking at you.  “You’ve grown up, huh?”

Flashes of what they made you do in that godforsaken academy fill you mind and for a moment, you’re on the verge of another episode.  The only thing keeping you tethered to reality is the blue eyes boring into your own.

“You remember me?”  You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t think I could ever forget you, kid.”  Those blue eyes grow closer as he sits up beneath you, pulling you into the perfect angle on his lap that if he wanted, he could kiss you.  You do your best not to think about it. “You and that sloppy footwork.”

His laughter is warm and inviting when you smack him on the chest, grimace on your pretty face.

“I can’t believe you got out of there…When I saw Natasha, it came back instantly.  Then I saw you…and you didn’t seem to want to see  _me_.”

“No, I just-”

“Aw, c’mon, kid.  Don’t lie to me.  I know he… _I_  did some terrible things.   I can understand why you wouldn’t want to see me.”

Your tongue is lead in your mouth, a knot in your throat.

“That’s…that’s not it.”  He’s close.  So close.  “I…I just thought I’d never see you again.”  Where the hell did your training go?  Your years of practice and battle.  All out the window because of a pair of big goo-goo eyes.

“This doesn’t happen to do with the torch you carried for me, does it?”  Blood rushes to your cheeks and your eyes widen.  Before you can speak, he beats you to it.  “Oh, c’mon, kid.  World’s greatest assassin, remember?  Don’t think I missed the way you looked at me…the way you  _still_  look at me.”

There’s no use in arguing.  Not with how he’s staring into your very soul and  _daring_  you to deny it.  So you think ‘fuck it’, and throw common sense straight out the window.

He doesn’t argue when your hands cup his cheeks.  Doesn’t even flinch.  Just stares at you with those endless, soulful eyes.  Eyes that have seen far too much.

“You gonna kiss me, kid?”

“Maybe if you stop calling me, kid.”  He smirks.  A challenge.

“I just hope you’re not as sloppy of a kisser as you are a fighter.”  He inches closer, suddenly a breath away and hands clasped tightly on your hips.  “Kid.”

It’s like a surge of electricity the moment your lips touch, let alone when he groans into your mouth.  Broad hands sweep up your back, rucking your top up with them in their assent.  The twitch of hips, the exhale of air on each other’s tongues, the digging of fingers in his thick, strong shoulders.

It’s everything you’d wanted when you studied under him all those years ago - and more.  You don’t want to stop, god not for a long shot, but if he keeps dragging his tongue over your lips like that…you’re going to fuck him right on the sparring matt.

And lord knows Steve would _never_ let you live that down.

“How was that?”  You ask when you have enough self-control to pull away.  You’re both panting - breaths tangling with every rise and fall of your chest.  Those eyes sparkle, darting to your kiss-swollen lips as your own eyes do the very same.

“That was sloppy,  _Doll_.”  A shared smirk, breathless laughter, and he’s pulling your lips to his own once more.  “Again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus points if you spotted the Hercules line


End file.
